


The Song of the Wolf

by Lypreila



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, But no songs, Fluff, Minor Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Multi, No smut right now, Possible mentions of abuse, Silly, Singing, Solas - Freeform, Songs, Unprompted, fluff and smut eventually, lavellan - Freeform, mentions of drug use, nightclub! au, relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-13 18:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5713363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lypreila/pseuds/Lypreila
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Nightclub AU, in which Solas is the owner.  </p><p>Solas thinks he is well and truly screwed when his star act Briala elopes mere hours before showtime.  Then old acquaintance (and ex-addict) Cullen stops by, with a current girlfriend who just happens to sing.  One audition later, Solas has to pull his jaw off the floor.  He didn't expect her to be good.  He didn't expect her voice to be so haunting, to move him so much.  He didn't expect to hire her.  Now what the hell is he going to do?<br/>On Hiatus because uninspired Ly is uninspired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's Not Easy

**Author's Note:**

> So.... Updates on this will be sporadic for a bit, guys. I'm having a bit of a month here, you all know, personal stuff, etc. I don't own the characters or lore elements used within, that's all Bioware.

Solas Evanuris sat at a table, shaved head in his hands, cursing silently to himself. The leather and metal paneled walls of his club seemed to stare down, condemning him, the dark hardwood floor giving a dim reflection of the overhead chandeliers. Around him the work of the day went on, waitresses bustling to and fro setting tables, disturbing the patches of smoky air and leaving the faint scent of perfume in their wakes. Varric stood behind the bar, idly cutting up a pile of lemons, though his amber eyes didn’t stray far from his boss. Solas didn’t need to look to know that the dwarf was wearing a small smile on his face. 

“What are you smiling about?” Solas muttered into his hands, not bothering to lift his head. 

“Oh nothing,” the dwarf quipped, grin widening, “I just enjoy watching you realize you made a mistake. It happens so rarely.”

That brought the mans head up, his eyes narrowing as he threw a glare at his favored bartender. One thin arm flew out, taking in the lounge part of his building with an expansive gesture. The tables were almost all set - each with a single budding rose in a vase in the middle of a deep red tablecloth - and the band were tuning up their instruments, sending random snatches of music to drift through the air. The same thing - minus the musicians - would be happening on the restaurant side of his business, accessible through a set of leather clad swinging doors. Solas was glad that the restaurant was under the trusty eye of his manager, Josephine, a marketing and managerial savant. The lounge gave him enough trouble on its own. 

“I’m curious to know, Mister Tethras, exactly what you find amusing about this situation.” Solas’ voice was mild, supple silk covering steel, and was entirely at odds with the glaring eyes he directed Varric’s way. 

Varric chuckled to himself. It was a treat to see his boss like this - the man rarely broke from his polite, level persona - but he supposed that having your star singer elope mere hours before show time would do it. The stage was already set with the single, old fashioned microphone that Briala had favored, and the foot lights were positioned in the manner she had insisted upon. 

“I apologize boss. It’s just amusing to see you bested by a slip of a girl like Briala. I can see the headlines tomorrow ‘Skyhold owner burns down club in fit of despair’ or something like that.”

Hawke, a regular here at Skyhold, was sitting at the end of the bar, occupying a dark corner with Fenris, both of them regular enough customers, and close enough to the staff here to be afforded early entrance to the place. She glanced at Varric, wiggling her eyebrows up and down. Fenris merely tapped his cigarette against an ashtray, absorbed in a book. Varric stifled another laugh.

Solas sighed, and raised his head. Granted, Varric knew him better than most these days, but if even the staff was noticing his agitation he had truly lost control over his emotions. Carefully tucking away his anger and dismay, he got up, preparing to stalk to his office and place a call to Leliana, his go to problem solver. The unexpected sound of the front door opening caught his attention, and the towering figure of his bouncer, a bear of a Qunari known only as “The Iron Bull”, appeared, walking towards him. Solas stopped, raising one questioning eyebrow. 

“Boss, we got some guy outside saying that he knows you. I wanted to tell him to go fuck off, but…well… he’s got a lady with him, and I don’t like emasculating men in front of their women. Too much.”

A frustrated growl threatened to rip from his lips, but Solas held it back, with some effort. He could think of no one who might casually ‘stop by’ for a visit - he held himself aloof from most people, even with his staff he maintained a distance. Just then the door opened again, admitting a broad blonde man. Solas could not help but stare - what was Cullen doing out of rehab? It hadn’t been a month yet. Solas had known the man, though they couldn’t be called close friends. He’d banned him from the lounge about a month ago, after catching him offering drugs to Merrill, one of his younger and more impressionable waitresses. Rumors that he’d been arrested and sentenced to rehab had begun circulating shortly after.

Bull moved to one side, annoyance standing out on his face, telling Solas without words that he’d asked the man to wait outside. Solas kept his face carefully neutral as Cullen strode forwards. 

“Good to see you egghead! They let me go early. Now, before you say anything, I’ve been clean for 3 weeks, and I’m just stopping by to say hello, and I'm sorry. ”

Solas attempted to smile, but the expression that crossed his face could’ve been better described as a grimace. He had no time for this, but he shook Cullen’s outstretched hand anyway. 

“It is good to see you as well, Cullen. I am happy that you have stopped subjecting yourself to that misery.”

He backed up, casting a critical eye over the man. He did look better, the aura of desperate filth that had hung around him was nowhere to be seen now. 

“I apologize, but I am in a bit of a bind here Cullen. My singer eloped this morning, and I did not find out till an hour ago. So if you will excuse me…”

“You need a singer, huh?” Cullen said, a mischievous look dancing in his eyes. “Well, I met this girl, you see, and she’s outside, but let me tell you… she can sing. You should give her a shot, Solas. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” Solas fought the urge to roll his eyes. As much as he didn’t have time to indulge his former friend, he was lacking entertainment for his patrons tonight, people who had paid good money to come and watch Briala sing in her signature style. He nodded sharply to Cullen. What did he have to loose besides ten minutes of time? 

“Go get her, we will see what she has.”

Bull snorted once Cullen was out of earshot. 

“You do realize that she might be like him, don’t you boss? I mean, she didn’t look it, and frankly she’s a right pretty piece, but you could be inviting nothing but trouble here. And if he‘s clean, then I‘m four feet tall.”

Solas nodded, accepting Bull's advice while retreating to a table in the middle of the room. Bull trailed along and had a seat next to him. Solas shot him a questioning look, and Bull smiled sheepishly. 

“I’ll never pass up an opportunity to watch a pretty girl sing, boss.”

“I would not let Dorian hear you say that.” Solas offered with a rare small smile. 

“Ha! If she’s pretty enough, Dorian might want to…”

“Please, no. And try to remember that she seems to already be in a relationship, Bull.” Solas said, forestalling his burgeoning fantasy with a raised hand. 

The door swung open and shut, and from the corner of one eye Solas watched as a tallish elf woman mounted the stairs to the stage. She walked to the microphone, then lifted her head, locking eyes with him. 

Solas’ breath caught in his throat for a moment. She was beautiful. Black hair, pulled into braids at either side of her head, framed a thin face with high cheekbones and a narrow chin. Midnight blue eyes stared out at him, blinking in the glare of the footlights. She could almost be called tall, and was a bit skinny, but her legs went on forever, clad in a ripped pair of leggings with a short, casual black and white dress over it all. Her long, thin ears were pierced in many places, with what looked like a tiny silver halla dangling from the tip of one. She must be young, no older than 19 surely, and she stood nervously, fidgeting, wringing her hands.

Solas snapped himself out of that train of thought harshly. There were reasons that he never dated, but this…. This wisp of a woman seemed to make those reasons recede, become meaningless. He pointed to the band leader, waiting patiently on the side of the stage. 

“Tell Claudio what you want. He knows pretty much everything. We will see if you are as good as Cullen says.”

Her eyes darted nervously to where Cullen was standing in the shadows, and at his nod she went to whisper with Claudio, the band leader. Solas watched as surprise overtook the mans face, morphing slowly into pleased understanding. A few short steps brought the woman back to mid stage, and she took a deep breath. The band struck up. 

“I heard…. church bells ringing…” 

The voice that floated out over the club was ethereal, deep and resonant. Solas found himself, somewhat unwillingly, transported by her song, to a place where there was no struggle to break free of his family’s legacy, where all that mattered was what he wished to matter, and the desperation he felt some times bothered him no more. 

By the end of it, as the last line faded into the distance, Solas came back to himself enough to be grateful that he had years of practice in keeping a neutral expression. It wouldn’t do to let this little whelp of a girl know that she was a rare talent, that she had the most beautiful, haunting voice he had ever heard. 

No. That wouldn’t do at all. 

He waved her down from the stage, and she came and stood in front of his table, hands clasped behind her back, eyes tracing patterns in the hardwood floor. Only now did he notice the streaks of white that wound up the braids, making him wonder if it was natural or an affectation. 

“What is your name?”

“Numin. Min. Lavellan, that is.” 

Her speaking voice was as dulcet as her singing, but soft. She seemed a little shy. 

“Have you ever sang in front of people before, Min Lavellan?” 

“I sang for my clan all the time.” 

Dalish. Damn. Those who refused to just be, who wanted nothing more than a return to what was - to the good old days where the world was run by- no. Best not to go there. He didn’t like the Dalish ultra-orthodox, the things they didn’t know and their xenophobia irritated him, but she was here, living among men and Qunari and everything else, so perhaps she was not so bad. He could deal with it, he supposed. 

“You have no other job?” 

“Not anymore” she shot back, at last lifting those blue eyes from the floor to focus on him, seeming to dare him to ask about it. He didn’t.  
Instead, Solas raised himself, mind working though figures quickly, settling on a number that seemed almost cheap compared to what he’d paid Briala. He kept the most severe frown he could muster plastered across his face. 

“Then you start tonight. Be here at 6 to get ready. I have a person who will fit you for a few dresses to get you started. You make a flat 100 a night, nothing off the back end until you have proven that you will not fall flat on your face or vomit on my clientele. If you are late, then do not bother showing up - tonight or ever again. Now get out of here.” 

With that, Solas strode away, ignoring the stunned, pleased look on Numin Lavellan’s pretty face, ignoring Bull’s quiet chuckle, Varric’s grin, and Cullen’s whoop of delight. When he got upstairs, to the peace and quiet of his third-story apartment, he sat at his desk. The elf wasted no time in re-burying his head in his hands. Solas had just hired an unknown, untested, Dalish singer. Without the normal two-stage audition. Without the normal vetting process. With full knowledge that she was beautiful, and young, and involved with a known drug-addict. And also, with the full knowledge that he was irrefutably curious about her, something that hadn’t happened in recent memory. There was only one thing he could say about it, as he lifted his head, leaning back in the chair and rubbing his hands across his face. 

“Fuck.”


	2. The Songbird Sings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas gets a stomachache, and Min plays dress up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own this, and sorry for the wait. Updates are going to be sporadic for now.

“But you hired her? Just like that?” gasped Dorian, a certain look coming into his eyes - a look that Solas didn’t all together trust. 

“She will be here shortly. Do not put her in those things Briala liked. Make her… unobtainable.” The elf ordered, the words accentuated with an airy wave of his hand. 

Solas turned to walk away, his lips pressed into a thin line. The queasy feeling that had dogged him ever since hiring Miss Numin Lavellan had refused to subside, despite an onslaught of antacids and Sera’s ‘Carefully Crafted Cold Crushing Chicken Soup’. Apparently she was debating trying to patent it, he’d discovered upon requesting something from his mischievous cook to settle his stomach. 

Walking out from backstage, he saw that the lounge was just beginning to pick up, with Varric busily serving drinks to two men who’d just arrived. Isabela and Merrill, giggling in a corner, turned to call out to him, but something of his mood must’ve shown on his face, because Merrill reached out, tapping her girlfriend on the shoulder and shaking her head. 

“Get back to work, girls.” the elf snapped. 

This, of course, only caused him to feel worse. It wasn’t his waitress’ fault he was in a bad mood. That had all started this morning, with Briala running off to get married. Solas quickened his footsteps till he was through both the main room and the kitchen, ignoring Sera’s puzzled glance and his Hostess Vivienne’s disapproving stare, till he finally found himself in the comfort of his business office. With a tired sigh, he sunk into his favorite leather chair. 

“You know, if you are going to make a habit of hiring people without having me vet them, you could at least do me the courtesy of telling me after the fact. You know, just in case they want to murder you.”

The sound of Leliana’s lyrical voice had Solas jumping a mile high, and he found it suddenly necessary to press one hand to his chest, as though that could still his pounding heart. Of course she would be here, in his private space, and of course she would be angry with him. She always was when it came to matters of safety. Solas narrowed his eyes at her, before deciding that it simply wasn’t worth it to point out that he’d asked her to refrain from breaking into his office. It wasn’t as though she’d listen, he thought while seating himself again. 

“They could’ve sent her.”

“Impossible.” He retorted, hoping it was true. 

His family was still under the impression that they ran the world, as they had centuries ago, but it was Solas’ constant hope that they would finally find themselves content with the power they had rather than constantly pushing, pulling, manipulating for more. The real estate, the farms, the construction, and the weapons, selling, making, transporting….. He’d done what he could to dismantle their harmful ventures before he’d fled, so very long ago, so he wouldn’t put it past them to strike back at him somehow. But..

“Simple logic tells us that our new songbird can not possibly be here on their orders. Think about it for a moment. They would have had to get rid of Briala, contact Rutherford, make sure she could sing, and then after all that they could not be sure that I would hire her. My family is nothing if not efficient, Leiliana. They would not strike without an assurance of success.” 

Leliana’s face remained set in it’s grim smile. It seemed she was not convinced. A sigh forced it’s way through his lips, and Solas let his eyes slide closed, leaning back into the enveloping comfort of the chair. 

“I’ll leave you to rest, but I thought I should tell you that I am checking them both. I never liked Cullen.” 

“Mmmm…Neither did I, really. But you know me - I'm drawn to lost causes.” He murmured. The only response was silence. Leliana had gone, as silently as she arrived. 

An hour later Solas woke rested, feeling remarkably better. That mood lasted all of 5 seconds, till he remembered that his newest employee should be downstairs, getting fitted into a dress. Something to add curves where there were none, he mused. Something that would fit her better than ragged tights and dresses. 

“Satin and silk…” Solas murmured to himself, before chastising himself mentally. It would do no good to indulge in fantasy. It never did, in the end. With another sigh, he pushed himself up, and made his way to his private table in the back. 

************************************************************************

Min Lavellan had never worn something that felt so sensual before. An itinerant Dalish elf had few opportunities to play dress up, and moving to the city had not helped that at all. She cocked her head to one side, studying her reflection in the mirror as Dorian’s deft fingers worked her hair from its braids. 

“Ooohhh…. You need to always leave your hair like this. I mean, look at it! Those braids just make it…um.”

Min turned to eye him in the sudden and, she had learned, unusual silence. 

“Is there something wrong, Dorian?” 

The kind man shook his head, a small, secretive looking smile flitting across his face. He’d just remembered that his employer’s favorite color was green. Was it for that reason that he’d dressed her in a long green gown? Maybe. He knew better than most that Solas hid more heartbreak than many had seen in their lives. 

Min shrugged, turning back to her reflection in the mirror. It was difficult to reconcile the person she saw there with her image of herself. The green silk fitted just tightly enough at the waist to make it seem as though she had hips, and the fabric rose up her front, clasped to her neck with a jeweled collar, leaving her back thoroughly exposed. It was disconcerting to a girl who was used to seeing herself in clothes that were one step up from the trash heap, though she did her best to match. This job was creator-sent, she was sure. Cullen did try, but it was hard. He would disappear for most of the day, then come home, telling her not to worry, that they wouldn’t be kicked out today. It was a difficult way to live, and this job could be the leg-up they needed. Perhaps if she could save enough money, Cullen wouldn’t always seem so on edge, almost as though he were about to leave her. She didn’t think she could take that - she’d met him only two weeks ago, but she’d been desperately lonely. So very lonely. 

“What was that?” Dorian asked, startling her from her ruminations. 

Min colored, red rising to stain her pale cheeks. Had she said that out loud? 

“Nothing. Dorian?” She looked down as he settled into his low chair, leaning back to admire his handiwork. 

“Mmm?”

“I’m nervous.” 

Dorian looked up at her, arcing a brow. 

“I wouldn’t be, biscuit. From what Bull tells me, you’re terrific.” Dorian smiled when his words made her blush even harder. Good. She could use the color in her cheeks. Just then, a red light began to flash in the small fitting room. Dorian jumped up, hands flying all over Min’s body - straightening this, brushing off that, snapping a loose thread. Finally he leveled a look at her, laying his hands gently on her shoulders. 

“You’ll be great. Claudio gave you the set list, you know the songs, and at the end of the night you’ll have money in your pockets, and men lining up around the block to ask for your hand in marriage. Now go.” 

With that he shooed her out the door, watching as she mounted the steps to the stage, the curtain casting all in a dark shadow. Then the curtain parted just a bit, and he saw her firm herself, straighten her back, and lift her head high. Dorian couldn’t help but smile as she stepped forward to a smattering of light applause. He was sure that she would be spectacular. And maybe, just maybe, seeing her succeed would help Solas relax, before he gave himself an ulcer. 

********************************************************************  
Hours later Dorian took a moment to pat himself on the back. Bull, watching the impromptu celebration that had come together after the lounge closed, smiled. 

“You’re pleased with yourself.” 

“I am. I knew she would be fantastic.”

Min, the object of their exchange, stood amidst a group of people that included Sera, Hawke, and Fenris, grinning shyly with Cullen’s arm around her shoulder. It looked as though she was having some much needed fun. 

“Our boss, however, said a small celebratory dinner.” Continued Bull, turning a exasperated but fond gaze on his lover. “I don’t think this counts as small or dinner.”

Dorian rolled one shoulder in a shrug. 

"He's upstairs - probably asleep by now."

He didn’t particularly care what Solas wanted, in this case. It was more about what Miss Lavellan needed. She still seemed quite shy, but the others were warming up to her, even prickly Isabela had said a brief hello, before pulling Merrill away to dance to the low music coming from the speakers. Min slid out from under Cullen’s arm, making her way towards the pair. She stopped in front of Dorian, a small smile playing on her lips. 

“I have to thank you Dorian.” The words were rushed - almost as though they were hard to get out, but the look in her deep blue eyes was one of clear gratitude. The tailor grinned back, elbowing Bull in the ribs. 

“Do you hear that? Someone who actually thanks me for what I do! It’s a miracle! I’ve heard about such people, but I never hoped to meet one myself!” 

Bull snorted, and laid a gentle arm around Min’s waist, squeezing her into a side hug. 

“Pay no attention to the maniac behind the bronzer, Min. He thinks everyone ought to thank him for breathing the same air they do.”

She shook her head, braided pigtails swinging earnestly. 

“I mean it - you not only made me look spectacular, you’ve been incredibly kind. Everyone here has.” she said, smiling over her shoulder at the various staff members and friends - Varric mixing Fenris a drink, Merrill dancing while Isabela laughed uproariously, even Sera smiling wickedly as she tried to get Vivienne to sample something lumpy and brown on a stick. Her eyes flickered briefly around the room as though looking for something, then came to settle on Dorian again. 

“Think nothing of it, Biscuit. You did most of it yourself. Maybe now that Briala isn’t here to diva things up Solas will relax a bit.” 

“Yes yes,” laughed Bull, Draping his free arm over Dorian, “We all know you’re enough diva for this place.” 

“More than enough, I think you mean” Sniffed Dorian. His eyes ticked up - he could see Cullen approaching their little group over Min’s shoulder, a thunderous look on his face. Min, following his gaze, saw her boyfriend coming, and quickly slid from Bull’s grip. She turned to Cullen, holding her hand out for him to grasp. Cullen, however, ignored the proffered hand, instead gripping her arm just below the elbow. A tight smile appeared on his face when he looked at Bull and Dorian. 

“I apologize, gentleman, but Min and I have to be going.”

“Oh, but….”

“It’s late,” Cullen cut her off brusquely, drawing her away. “And you have to get up early - remember? Doctor?” 

“Oh. Oh! Yes. Thank you, Cullen, you take such good care of me.” Min said, turning to walk away. Just before they passed through the door, she turned, waving goodbye to Bull and Dorian. Then they were gone. 

“Hmm.” Grunted Bull. 

“Hmm indeed.” 

Dorian shook his head, pushing Min and Cullen’s abrupt departure to the back of his mind. A wicked smile slowly crept onto his face as he turned to face Bull. His lover stared back at him, face falling with every second. 

“You’re going to make me dance, aren’t you.” The Qunari grunted, eyes mournful, shoulders slumped. Dorian laughed, tugging him towards the middle of the room. 

“There’s music, there’s people - Yes, Bull, I am going to make you dance.” 

They danced what remained of the night away, and morning saw Solas standing in the staff room, shaking his head both at the mess and at Sera, who had ended up falling asleep on the floor, wrapped up in a ratty blanket. The elf sighed, and began to quietly clean up around her.


	3. Life Goes On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Min's first staff meeting reveals some new faces, in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV switch here, I'm still experimenting with it on this piece. Bioware owns these crazy cats, I just have fun playing with them.  
> Also, Kudos and Comments are food for a starving writers soul. ^_^ Enjoy!

Min Lavellan sat quietly at the long table, nervously twisting one of her striped braids in her fingers, waiting for the (apparently weekly) staff meeting to begin. All around her the Skyhold family muttered and talked among themselves, and it was difficult to try and keep her attention on Dorian’s discourse in what fabrics suited her skin, her height. She found it remarkable here - she’d always been told that the elves in cities were treated no better than slaves and criminals - but that certainly wasn’t the case inside Skyhold Lounge and Herald's Restaurant. Outside however…..

It had happened within an hour of arriving in the city. Being let off in the completely wrong part of town had come as a rude shock, and while she’d dealt with a shem or two in her time, nothing had prepared Min for the sheer number of them - not to mention the looks they gave her. She’d been walking from store to store, person to person, asking directions to her destination (and getting nothing but rude comments or no response at all), when, from nowhere, a pair of arms had slid around her waist from behind. Muscle memory had taken over - she’d practiced the counter to this move with Sorien countless times, so it wasn‘t as though she‘d _intended_ to hurt the man. She _definitely_ hadn’t meant to hurt him in front of his friends. Five minutes later Min had been doing her best to outrun a group of angry humans, including one with a very broken nose and a shallow slice from her dagger on his thigh. 

As she’d ducked around a corner, frantically scanning for somewhere to hide (‘Why were there no places to _hide_?’ she remembered thinking, longing for a tall tree she could scamper up.) Min had run into what seemed like a brick wall. A lightly scarred but handsome face stared down at her, smiling in confusion. After explaining her predicament between quick breaths, the elf found herself sitting in a small motel room, sharing a cup of tea with Mr. Cullen Rutherford. 

“Miss Lavellan, if you’d care to join us?” 

Min started at Solas’ voice, a blush rising to stain her cheeks. 

“I apologize, Ser.” she murmured, trying in vain to lower her eyes from the older elf’s piercing gaze. A drawn out moment passed before Solas nodded brusquely. 

“Well, you’ve met most everyone here, Varric, Sera, Vivienne, and of course Dorian and The Iron Bull.” He said, offering a small smile to each employee in turn, “But you may not have met Blackwall, Josephine, and Cassandra.” 

Three unfamiliar people directed their gaze at her, a fit, handsome man who seemed to radiate an inner strength, and also sported one of the more impressive beards she’d ever seen, a kind looking woman with tendrils of glossy hair escaping from a messy bun, and another woman with short cropped dark hair, looking very put together in a smart business suit that flattered a lean frame. Min pulled her lips up into a small smile, while wondering why facing a crowd this last week had been easy for her, while meeting just three people now made her want to slink down in her seat. Solas gestured to the man. 

“Blackwall is a bouncer, like Bull there, Josephine manages the restaurant side of things for me, and Cassandra is the one who makes sure that Sera doesn’t bankrupt us by spending an entire weeks food budget on thousand sovereign a pound truffles and the like.” Solas continued, directing a frown at the elven cook, currently sitting upside down in her chair, legs draped casually over the back. 

“One time, Solas! And it was Crystal Grace, for garnishes! And it wasn’t my fault that they weren’t preserved properly!” Came Sera’s reply, her raw voice somewhat muffled by the table. 

Cassandra made a disgusted noise, while Isabela, sitting at Sera’s side, patted the elf's thigh in a consoling gesture, earning a look from Merrill that Min was pretty sure she’d been alone in catching. 

“Yes, Sera. One time, and it wasn’t your fault.” Solas agreed, passing a hand over his eyes. “Now please sit up so I am spared the ordeal of having to speak to your legs instead of your face. Anyway, now that everyone here has been introduced to Miss Lavellan, we can begin.” 

There followed a litany of issues and details that Min did her best to comprehend. Sera was having trouble coming up with specials for the restaurant for the weekend, Blackwall traded a shift with Bull, and both Bull and Dorian announced their intention to take the last weekend of the next month off for a small vacation from work. Cassandra congratulated Merrill on raising her drink sales, earning a beaming smile from the short elf. From there on Min had trouble paying attention, drifting into thoughts of home as she often did, till she heard her name come up in the conversation. Subtly she attempted to sit up straighter, and look as though she was paying attention. 

“Isabela, we have been through this. I simply am not confident in your ability to perform.” 

The dusky woman leaned forward, giving all present a view of her barely contained breasts. Her lips were pressed together tightly, something that she seemed to do when she was angry, a signal to everyone who knew her to steer clear. 

“Solas we all know that jobs are not easy to come by now, and I appreciate what I have, what you have given me.” Isabela said, voice laced with sincerity though her eyes were narrowed in anger. “But you said - you said I could have my chance if Briala ever missed work. Now she’s not only missed work - she’s left the damn city - and instead you put this…amateur up there instead! It’s unfair - you promised me a chance. No offense, Min.” 

Isabela tossed the last words in as an obvious afterthought, directing a withering look her direction, and Min managed to arrange her lips into some semblance of a smile, and mutter something that hoped sounded like ‘none taken’, but the offhand comment stung, turning her stomach sour in a moment. Yes, she was an amateur, but the condescension in the woman’s look was undeserved. Dorian, seeming to sense her unease, patted her knee underneath the table, his face sympathetic and understanding at once. 

“Isabela,” Solas responded, several excruciatingly quiet seconds later, “I remember the exact conversation you are referring to. It was snowing, nearly a blizzard, and I told you that if Briala failed to show because of the weather you could entertain any guests we may have.” 

Isabela opened her mouth to speak, but Solas forestalled her with a raised hand. 

“Briala, however, did manage to make it, and we had next to no one in that evening in any case. I did not promise you a ‘chance’, I most assuredly did not promise you the position should it become permanently vacated.” 

Solas stood at this point, once again taking a moment to pass his hands over his eyes. It seemed to be something he did often in times of stress, though the elf always seemed to be careful with his emotions around his staff, Min had noticed. 

“You also do not have the best track record with me at the moment.” He paused, forcing a sulky Isabela to meet his intense gaze. “However. If you are serious, then two weeks from now I expect you to have something put together for me. If you truly want to do this, then you must audition, just as Miss Lavellan did. Is that agreeable?”

Isabela, no longer looking nearly so sour, nodded. 

“Thank you Solas. I appreciate it.” 

Solas nodded in response, briefly, before reaching down to gather up the papers he’d brought to the meeting. Min’s eyes strayed to the elf’s long, thin fingers as he gathered them up, shuffling them into a neat, squared pile. 

“In that case, I would say that we are done here. I will see you all later tonight. I know that you will all continue to do your best. ” 

With that, Solas left, and the meeting broke up quickly. Isabela was the next out the door, with Merrill shooting an apologetic look Min’s way before following her girlfriend. Josephine stopped to say a few words to her as the others dispersed, and Min found herself the last in the room, pushing the chairs back against the table, dropping the few used coffee cups and a water bottle in the garbage. As she walked out the back entrance, intent on a quick run to a nearby tea shop and bakery she’d discovered, she couldn’t help but notice that, for once, the door to Solas’ office was open. Her footsteps slowed involuntarily. 

“Numin Lavellan, you do _not_ eavesdrop on your boss. Rule number two.” She breathed, almost silently. 

But, common sense aside, she could not manage to keep her eyes on the floor, though her steady pace barely faltered as she glanced in on her way past the door. Solas was leaning against the wall, eyes closed, shoulders slumped. Min did not hesitate, but hurried on, wondering how such a successful elf could look so very lonely.


End file.
